


Pint Sized Wordsoup: Prompts

by Tafferling



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Gen, Mostly Fluff, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-11-28 06:25:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11412135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tafferling/pseuds/Tafferling
Summary: An archive for my prompt fills from Tumblr.





	1. Yap-Yap

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone's got any requests, pop on over [here](https://tafferlicious.tumblr.com/) and I'll happily give 'em a shot.

 

[RINSKIROO](http://rinskiroo.tumblr.com/) SENT A MESSAGE: something with a puppy? :B

* * *

"Ah crap- crap- crap-" Piers sticks his head into room, hazel eyes scanning left and right, his lips set in a tight and grim line. That harassed look doesn't fit into the B.S.A.A break room. That's the sort of look he's supposed to have on out there in the field and preferably set down the sights of a rifle. Jill frowns.

"What's wrong?"

"Shiiit- have you seen him?" He takes a few long steps her way, then grabs the edge of the table she's sat at and… dives under it. One moment he's stood upright, the next his hands are grasping the edge and he's got his head stuck down there.

She quirks her brows, scoots aside, and leans aside to watch him scan a lot of empty air between the table legs.

"Seen who?"

Piers jolts up and—   _THWOMP_ —his head meets the wood. "I forgot to lock the crate," he mutters and rubs his skull. "Damnit."

"I see— want some help finding the little guy?"

He gives her a thankful nod, and they're off, cracking open office doors and earning themselves odd looks for sticking their heads into a broom closet. And no one's seen him. They're close to given up, right down at the bottom of the stairs, when a quiet, miserable whine catches both of their attention. It slips out from under the door to the gym, and Piers bumps it open with Jill right behind him.

That late in the afternoon, the gym usually stands empty, its squat racks and mats sitting vacant. Today though it's got two occupants. One sits hunched forward at the foot end of a weight lifting bench, a dumbbell somewhat carelessly hanging from a half extended arm.

Chris stares down at the patch of ground in front of him, that bit occupied by a ball made of mostly steel-grey fluff, a set of perked ears, and paws too big for the rest of it.

 _Haaruumph—_ the pup goes. Its tiny tail snaps down quick with a decisive wag.

"Oh yeah?" Chris asks, slants a brow up. His free hand jabs at the puppy's paws. "Give me ten and we'll talk."

 _Aauu?_ It cocks its head. Wag. Wag. Wag? Bit by bit its front paws inch forward, until its nose is pressed to the ground and the tail picks up speed like it's wanting to sweep the place clean.

"Good boy." Chris curls his right arm, brings the weight up, and _Aruhmph!_ the pup comments, its little black nose puffing wetly at the air.

"Huh—" Piers stands with his hand on his neck and throws Jill a perplexed glance. "I swear, that little shit couldn't _sit_ or _down_ this morning."

Well. They'd always known Chris to be good with the recruits. Two paws. For paws. Obviously he didn't discriminate, despite his general misgiving for dogs.

 _Arf,_ the pup says, pounces forward, and sinks tiny teeth into the tips of Chris' shoes to happily gnaw at them while he stares down at it with a bemused smirk on his lips.

 


	2. Let's build a fort.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos wants to build a fort with Jill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a [sentence](https://tafferlicious.tumblr.com/post/164417642081/phaeleah-sentence-starters-send-an-ask-with-a) starter prompt on Tumblr.

“Let’s build a fort and never go out again!”

"What?" Jill turns to look, and catches Carlos strutting into the hotel room from his adjacent unit. In his arms, and on his shoulders (and squeezed anywhere he can get away with it, really) he carries what's probably the entire supply of pillows from next door.

"You heard me, chica. We build a fort. One for the record books."

She dodges the first pillow he flings her way. Snatches it on the way past, and plants it on her lap. 

"We're working," Jill insists and he just scoffs and dumps the rest of his pillows on the bed behind her. 

" _ Work  _ is not going to go anywhere at one AM." He sweeps up the papers neatly stacked around her on the mattress, ignoring her " _ I was reading this,"  _ and scuttles off with them even as she tries to snatch for him. The tips of her fingers just barely glance off his hip on the way by. The papers land on the desk— right alongside another stack —and then he goes for the TV remote. The old, boxy thing thumps on, and he thumps down on the mattress, knees first. 

Carlos must have showered. He smells of the same peppermint shampoo and soap as the one in her unit. It doesn't really fit him. But the slightly damp hair and the clingy t-shirt, those do. 

Jill smiles, pulls her legs up and drags herself across the mattress to knock one pillow off the bed. 

"Ah!" Carlos dives after it, saves it just at the edge, and on his way back up swipes it at her. Her arm comes up and it knocks into it with a  _ FWUUMP.  _ And then things kind of get out of control anyway, and the whole  _ Let's build a fort  _ is quickly wrestled from Carlos' mind. Though she concedes on the point of not going out. Or anywhere. Least for now. 

  
  



	3. Just stay.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire doesn't want to be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a [sentence](https://tafferlicious.tumblr.com/post/164417642081/phaeleah-sentence-starters-send-an-ask-with-a) starter prompt on Tumblr.

**“Just…stay.”**

Two words, and Leon hovers by the door, a hand on the frame and one foot already half turned on the balls of his foot. Though to be fair, he'd been loitering already anyway, hesitating all the way from here to there, because leaving feels wrong.

Claire leans her head to the side. Grabs for her neck and squeezes, and Leon sees her brows pinch and her lips twitch down. She's still in pain. Still sore. 

"Please?" Her eyes flick up to him, and then give a weary blink. 

"All right," he says eventually. "Sure." And he gently pulls the door open and slips back inside. 

Claire lives simple, but cosy. Warm, earthy colours make up the place, with some hints of pinks and rich reds. But it's not hard to tell that the comfort doesn't help her now. She's vulnerable in her own home. And Leon hates seeing that. Hates the remnants of tremors in her arms, and how she tries so hard not to show any of it. And he hates knowing he won't get to kick in the teeth of those responsible. Claire, like any Redfield, had already taken care of that herself. In a manner of speaking.

Doesn't mean she's come away unscathed. But she's as stubborn as her brother, if not more, so for her to ask him to stay? The door clicks shut behind him, and he extends an arm. Hooks it around her. Slowly. She leans into it, a line of warmth against his forearm, and he guides her into the spacious living room. 

"What did you have in mind?" He asks. "I get the drinks, you get the ice?"

"No, Leon. I just don't want to be alone. Can we watch a movie?"

He gently drags her closer. Squeezes her flush to his side, until they're hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder, and she leans on him as he walks them to the couch. 

"Movie, got it. Mission Impossible?"

She grunts. "No."

"A Bond one?"

Another grunt. 

"Okay, okay- Hot Fuzz?"

Claire chuckles. "Fine. But I'll blame you for every laugh, because that still hurts."

He turns his head, sets his lips against her hair, and mumbles: "That's fair." 

She doesn't make it even ten minutes into the movie. Is fast asleep with her cheek pressed to his chest and her breathing slow and even. So Leon turns the volume down and sits quietly, and keeps every laugh down, since he'd rather not wake her. And rather just stay.


End file.
